Giggling Boys and Golden Books
by blackangus
Summary: A short piece of future fluff featuring Peter Gunn and Edie Hart, this story takes place in late February 1964.


**Peter Gunn, Edie Hart and other characters from the original "Peter Gunn" TV series don't belong to me nor do I make any financial gain from this or any other story. Sometimes they knock on the door and ask me to come out and play with them. Who am I to say no?**

 _This is just a little piece of future fluff that found its way into my brain and wouldn't leave. If you enjoy it feel free to leave a note._

 **Giggling Boys and Golden Books**

The clock on the stove showed the time to be exactly 5:30 PM as Mary Grace Hart slid a baked bean casserole and six baking potatoes – three large and three medium – into the oven and shut the door. Joe kept telling her they should replace the old Roper stove with something more modern, like one of the new Kenmore ranges they'd seen the last time they were in Sears, but she found she didn't have the will to part with the appliance she'd been cooking and baking with for the past twenty years. It would be like getting rid of a member of the family. She set the timer and washed her hands and grabbed a fresh dish towel, grateful for the forty-five minutes of peace and quiet she'd have before her sister and brother-in-law, Emilie and Henry Dunn, would arrive.

Wandering into the living room, she finished drying her hands on the dish towel, then folded it twice over and slipped it into the big divided pocket that stretched from one side to the other of her apron. It was her favorite apron, made and given to her by her youngest sister Maureen about five years ago when the younger woman joined a sewing circle after her youngest child graduated high school and she discovered she had more time on her hands than she knew what to do with. All the women in the family got new aprons as Maureen went on a sewing jag.

Joe Hart was sprawled sleeping on the sofa, the sports page of the evening newspaper lying on his chest, his faint snores bringing a smile to his wife's face. Glancing around the room she wondered where the little boy was. Joe was supposed to be keeping an eye on Edith's oldest but had obviously fallen asleep on the job. She chuckled inwardly at her own joke as she walked across the room to check the entryway, then glanced down the hallway at a noise from their small den. Was that the sound of something falling?

Mary Grace hurried down the hall, deciding watching over little boys was quite different from baby-sitting little girls. Son Jeff's two girls had never gotten into as much nonsense as Luke Gunn had in just the short time his parents had left him in their care while they'd gone off to enjoy an afternoon at the Winter Farmer's Market and Maple Festival. At not quite two years old the toddler was quite the rascal. Thankfully four month old Andrew was behaving himself by following his Grampie's example and sleeping most of the afternoon away in the little fold-away bassinet set up in the corner of the living room. She'd cuddled him and offered him his pacifier around two-thirty and then he'd taken his bottle at four o'clock and following a diaper change had quickly resumed his nap.

"Good gracious!" the woman exclaimed. "Don't you ever take a break?"

Half a dozen steps took her to the narrow floor-to-ceiling bookcase Joe had built into the space between one window and the corner not long after they'd moved into the house almost thirty-seven years ago, just after the birth of their first child. Dark-haired Luke Gunn sat amidst a pile of books that had fallen from the second shelf. Some lay open with their pages askew, others had slid a few feet in either direction and stuck out from beneath a chair on one side and the steam radiator on the other. A few more sat in small distinct piles where they had dropped from the shelf, several covered the little boy's legs and he had one grasped in each hand.

On sudden impulse Mary Grace reached into the closest cabinet for the little Brownie Flash camera she knew was there, made sure it contained film, and quickly took several snapshots of her grandson as he sat there on the floor in his light blue overalls and green shirt. And one shoe. Where was his other shoe? Setting the camera aside she knelt down next to the boy and removed the books from his hands.

" _The_ _Little_ _Red_ _Caboose_ ," she said out loud, looking at the first book. "And _Four Little Kittens_. You're lucky these are Little Golden Books young man. If they were the bigger ones you'd have bumps and bruises all over. How would I have explained that to your mother? Not to mention that father of yours."

Mary Grace sighed and began to gather together the rest of the books. She ended up with three piles of about a dozen books each. As she stacked the last book on top of the third pile she moved from her knees to a sitting position, then watched as Luke grabbed at the book. _Baby Farm Animals._ The multi-colored cover sported images of a calf, a piglet, a couple puppies, a pair of ducklings and what might have passed for a lamb and a burro. She lifted the book from the pile and let it fall open so she and Luke could both see the pictures of other baby animals on the pages.

"You like this one?" She turned a page.

"Daddy wead." Luke smacked a little hand on the page and left behind a sticky imprint.

"I thought we washed your hands after the incident with the jelly," his grandma sighed. She pulled the kitchen towel from her apron pocket, grasped the boy's hand and for the second time in less than half an hour painstakingly wiped it clean. Putting the cloth away she picked up the book again.

"Daddy wead!" The little boy pushed to his feet to stand beside her and reached out his hand for the book.

"You have this one at home?" The woman smiled when the boy stuck his thumb in his mouth and nodded. She glanced down and flipped another couple pages. "We started buying these after Lori was born and kept it up after Megan came along. We thought it would be nice to have something to read to them when Jeffrey and Jennifer visited or when they left the girls with us for a day or two. But they've never been very interested in them." Mary Grace sighed and set the little book to one side. "And I get the distinct impression their mama doesn't care for the books either. She wants those fancy new ones I've seen over at The Book Nook." Mary Grace laughed to herself and wondered why on earth she was explaining these things to an almost two-year-old.

Luke pushed over a stack and came up with another book, holding it in his hand with the pages dangling as he looked at the cover seemingly enthralled.

"Duck." He pointed at several yellow ducklings. "Duck duck duck!"

" _The Animals of Farmer Jones,_ " Mary Grace said, cocking her head to read the title.

The woman glanced at the cuckoo clock hanging on the far wall, estimating how much time she had before supper had to come out of the oven, then took the boy's hand and led him to a light beige BarcaLounger and pulled him onto her lap as she seated herself.

"Let's see if we can get this read before supper," Mary Grace murmured. She opened the book to the first page. "Has your Daddy read you this one?"

The little boy stuck his thumb in his mouth again and looked at the page then up at his grandma, who took his silence as a negative answer.

"Does Mommy read to you?"

The thumb popped out of Luke's mouth and he smiled delightedly.

"Mommy wead!"

"That's good," his grandma said, then frowned. "I think. As long as she doesn't read you any of those strange books she seems to like so much."

She'd had the great misfortune – her personal opinion of course, which obviously didn't account for much – of running across several of her daughter's books that she wished she hadn't. And it wasn't like she'd been prying, the books were just there, out in the open for anyone to see. And that man of hers– Another sigh broke the silence. Peter Gunn. Edith would be married to the man for three years in just another few months and before that they– Well, Mary Grace really didn't want to think about what went on before that. Yet she still had a hard time referring to him by his given name. She didn't know why. She wondered if other people noticed? Anyway, he didn't seem to care that those books laid around for all the world to see either. She'd have to have a talk with her daughter. Such books weren't something the little boy should see. Both of his parents needed to take responsibility for making sure they were put away properly. Or not have them in the house at all. That's what she would suggest. Surely Edith would see her point.

" _It is supper time on the farm_ ," Mary Grace began. "Do you know this animal?"

"Hose."

"Horse," the woman corrected and turned to the next page, which featured a cow. "And how about this one," she continued, pointing to the animal.

"Moo moo."

She let that one pass, mostly because of the way he let his head fall back and looked up at her with the same smile his mother smiled when she was that age. Mary Grace had to admit the little boy had his father's eyes and dark hair but there was no mistaking Edith's engaging grin. She continued to flip the pages.

"Ship."

"Sheep," she corrected. "Sheee – p."

"Chickend."

"That's acceptable," she laughed.

"Turgee."

"Turkey."

"Duck duck duck!"

"You certainly like those ducks, don't you?"

"Sofie."

"No honey, that's a dog." She pointed to the animal on the next page. "And this is a cat."

"Toms." Luke giggled and patted the paper cat on the paper page.

"Oh, I see. Your cat at home is Thomas." The woman smiled. "And Sofie is the dog."

"Soufflé. But he has a hard time getting that out," Edie Gunn offered in a soft voice from the doorway. She crossed the room and knelt on the floor next to her mother and reached a hand to ruffle her son's hair. "Are you impressing Gramma with all your big words?"

"When did you get back?" Mary Grace glanced at the clock, having forgotten the time.

"About five minutes ago," Edie said, following her mother's gaze, her arms lifting Luke from the other woman's lap as they both got to their feet. "Aunt Emilie and Uncle Henry came through the front door right behind us and your supper is going to ding in exactly three minutes."

"Already?" Where had the time gone, she wondered? She noted the rosy glow of her daughter's face, a byproduct of the close to freezing outdoor temperature, and placed her palm briefly against one cool cheek in a fond caress. "The timer is set for the casserole. The potatoes still have fifteen minutes to go and I need to put the ribs back in to warm."

Luke bounced in his mother's arms, the book still clutched in his hand, his face sporting the engaging grin that he'd already discovered could charm his parents into doing almost anything. He began a garbled conversation between himself and the book which seemed to have something to do with chickens and cows, then pushed the book into his mother's face and made a noise that might have passed for the quack of a sick duck.

"You and Daddy can finish the book later, honey." Edie followed behind her mother to the kitchen, taking possession of the book and gently explaining to the boy that first he would eat supper, then he and baby brother Andy would have a bath and then Daddy would read the rest of the book and tell him what the animals sounded like when they talked. She failed to see the way Mama's ears pricked up at that and had no idea of the smirk that crossed the older woman's face as she grabbed an oven mitt and opened the oven door to the sound of the timer going off.

* * *

 _Tom Swift and His Giant Magnet._ Mary Grace smiled to herself. Jeffrey had loved the Tom Swift books when he was growing up. This was the only one left on the shelf, the others having been given away by her son to cousins when he was younger or nephews as he got older and those same cousins had sons of their own. She briefly wondered at the reason this might be the only one remaining before placing it in the bottom of the olive drab canvas bag she'd dug from the back of a closet. She followed it with several Hardy Boys books. _The Secret of the Old Mill. The Mark on the Door. The Sinister Signpost._ Mary Grace remembered seeing several books in the series, their covers as tattered and worn as these, in one of the bookcases at her daughter's home. Hopefully these wouldn't be duplicates. The thought crossed her mind that she should probably ask her son if he minded that she gave the books to Edie. But considering the length of time they'd been taking up space on the shelf and the fact that Jeff and Jenny had two girls now and didn't plan on more children – meaning no boys who might enjoy the books – she decided she had the freedom to do with them as she thought fit.

The Golden Books came next. She began sifting through the three piles still on the floor, putting those that were obviously for little girls to one side. She'd decide what to do with those later. Mama's lips curved in a smile as she listened to the sounds coming from the bathroom almost directly across the hall, thoughts straying to the two little boys. She and Emilie had both offered to help Edie with their bath but the girl had declined. "Pete likes to to it," she'd said. "He can't always be there so when he has the chance he likes to take advantage of it." Which was why Emilie was washing the supper dishes and she herself was doing what she was doing. _Tom and Jerry's Party_ , _Baby's First Book_ , _How to Tell Time_ , _My Puppy_ , _Animal Friends_ , _Doctor Dan the Bandage Man_ and half a dozen others went into the canvas bag. A dozen more that would appeal to little boys went back on the shelf. For future visits.

Mary Grace scanned the the remaining shelves of the bookcase, top to bottom, her eyes lingering here and there. When Edie had left home after graduating high school her own personal books had left with her and most likely she still had all of them. But on the top shelf were ten or so by Grace Livingston Hill that Mama's own mama, Alice Kelly, had given to _her_ when she was a teenager that she knew Edie had also loved reading when she was the same age. They went into a second bag along with a number of other books collected over the years. _Peter Pan and Wendy_. _The Mysterious Affair at Styles_. _The Story of Doctor Doolittle_. _The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes_. _The Velveteen Rabbit_. A few mysteries and westerns were thrown into the jumble. Literature for children and adults alike. Pushing to her feet, she dusted off her dress, her gaze lighting on the small pile of Golden Books clearly meant for little girls. She picked one up, a smile curving her lips. Jeffrey's little girls had shown little interest, but maybe one day... She divided the books, placing six back on the shelf where they came from and putting the others in one of the canvas bags.

Hearing nothing but silence from across the hall, she opened the door and set the two bags in the little niche at the foot of the stairs and then peeked around the corner into the living room. The television set was turned on to The Lawrence Welk Show but only Joe and Henry seemed to be paying it any attention – Joe was tapping his fingers on the arm of the sofa in rhythm to some song Norma Zimmer, the Champagne Lady, was singing while half-listening to something Henry was saying. Emilie was picking through some new skeins of knitting yarn in the basket on the floor beside the armchair and Edie was gently swinging to and fro in the rocking chair as she fed Andrew his bottle. She smiled at the intense look on her daughter's face then turned and picked up the bags and stepped nimbly up the stairs.

* * *

Peter Gunn sat in an almost too comfortable armchair in the bedroom at the end of the second floor hallway, his elder son settled as well as could be expected on his lap, _The Animals of Farmer Jones_ held loosely in one hand. His eyes momentarily roamed the room that had been Edie's when she was growing up. Recently painted a very light pink and with new flowered curtains hanging, there remained evidence here and there of the girl who'd grown up to be the woman with whom he'd fallen in love. With a glance at the boy resting against his chest the PI lifted the book so they both could see it and let it fall open to the first page.

"Let's see what we have here. _It is supper time on the farm_ ," Pete read aloud, repeating the same opening sentence Mary Grace Hart had uttered a few hours earlier. "Do we have this one at home?" he asked, tilting his head to look into Luke's face and tickling the boy's ribs.

The almost two-year-old shook his head and giggled around the thumb in his mouth and then cast his eyes to the picture his father tapped with a long index finger.

"What's this?"

"Hose."

"Horse. Horrrrse," Pete stressed. "Do you know someone who has a horse?"

Luke nodded his head and his feet found the surface of the armchair so he could wiggle around and stand up. He leaned into his father's shoulder, one arm around his neck as the other hand reached to grab the corner of the page.

"Does Angela have a horse?" The PI smiled at the boy's nod. "Maybe next time we visit your Aunt Peggy and Uncle Tom you can have a ride on Angela's horse. Would you like that?"

"Yes Daddy," Luke's eyes widened and he nodded emphatically. Angela was the adopted daughter of Edie's cousin Peggy and her husband Tom McKay, who owned a small ranch about forty miles distance from where Pete and Edie resided. Peggy was the daughter of Mary Grace Hart's sister Virginia Day and husband Jim. Angela, now twelve years old, had been orphaned four years prior when her father died of a terminal illness after hiring Pete to investigate a convoluted case of murder.

"Do you remember what sound the horse makes?"

Luke made a sound between his tongue and pursed lips that sounded something between a snort and a hiccup, then grinned engagingly when his father followed up his effort with a more horse-like whinny.

"More Daddy! More more!"

"You and your mama," the man chuckled. "More, more, more. Tell me what this is," he said, turning the page, "And don't say moo moo."

"Cow?" Luke grinned. "Make moo Daddy."

The PI heard a sound from the doorway but didn't turn his head to look. If it was Edie with Andrew she wouldn't linger in the hall. They'd discovered with this baby that once he had his late bottle he needed to be immediately put down for the night, especially since he'd begun sleeping for about six hours at a stretch, or he'd become restless and cranky and none of them would get any sleep.

"Mooooooo..." He offered in a deep tone and flipped to the next page. "How about this one?"

"Shhh..." The little boy seemed indecisive for a moment. "Sheee – p!"

Pete looked at his son with narrowed eyes, making the boy giggle.

"Have you been practicing without me?" he asked suspiciously.

The toddler giggled again and hid his face in his hands, then peeked from between his fingers when a light knock sounded on the open door. Mary Grace Hart entered after a slight hesitation, carrying two packed canvas bags which she placed on the floor beside Pete's armchair. She reached out a hand and rested it on her grandson's dark head in a gentle caress, her fingers drifting along his cheek and poking at his nose as he lowered his hands, then she stepped back and perched on the corner of the bed.

"He's a very bright child."

"He's a smarty-pants," Pete retorted with a tilt of his lips and laid the book face-down on his knee. He rubbed Luke's back and gave him a wink.

The two adults endured a semi-comfortable silence for a few moments until the woman cleared her throat.

"I picked out some books for Luke that you can take home with you. And of course for Andrew when he's older," Mary Grace offered up a bit awkwardly with a motion of her hand toward the bags. "As well as a few others we don't have any use for." She had the grace to wince at her choice of words, wondering if it sounded like she was handing him leftovers, but her son-in-law didn't appear to take exception. "Hopefully none of them are duplicates of any you already have."

Pete reached to bring one of the bags closer and pulled out a thin book sporting a well-dressed cat on the cover. _Puss in Boots._ He smiled and turned it for his son to see. The little boy looked at it through suddenly heavy eyelids, his thumb in his mouth as he half lay against his father's shoulder. He put out a finger to touch the illustration. Anything involving a kitten or a puppy tended to capture Luke's attention, half-asleep or not.

"If they are we'll keep these and give the others away." He grabbed several more books. _The Little Engine That Could_ and _Four Little Kittens_ and one simply titled _Daddies_. He silently concluded he might need to read that one just for himself. "Edie and several of her girlfriends have what they call a 'hand-me-around' club. They get together every so often and trade out what the kids have outgrown. Seems like someone always has one just the right age to use something. Books and those little pull toys are always big hits."

"I'm glad she has friends like that. The only one I know anymore is June Holton," Mary Grace sighed. "When she left home she kept in contact with very few of the friends she went to school with. I really don't understand it. Edith was a popular girl, she had quite the number of friends..." She paused and seemed to be looking for the right words. "She seems quite happy to see the ones she runs into now and again whenever she visits – she mentioned seeing Connie Bedford while the two of you were at the Maple Festival today – but none of those people seem important to her anymore."

Pete wasn't quite sure what to say to that, or if he should, or if Mrs. Hart even expected an answer. He supposed he could tell her that kids grow up and become adults who want to live their own lives, hopefully living them in a manner in which their parents can take pride. He could mention that Edie's growing up years would always have an importance in her life, that they were part and parcel in making her the woman she was today. Her family and the people she grew up with were and would remain something she would cherish. But she had made a new life, an adult life, surrounded by new friendships and her own family. Pete supposed he could say all those things. So he did.

"Most days I wish she'd never made that life," the PI's mother-in-law said, wringing her hands. She seemed to notice herself doing it and quickly pulled her hands apart and ran her palms down the lap of the pretty blue house dress she wore, as though her hands were sweaty and she was trying to dry them, or maybe she was ironing out wrinkles that didn't exist, then she pushed them into the voluminous side pockets.

"I'm glad she did," Pete offered back with a kind smile. "My own life would be dull and boring without her." He cocked his head to look with affection at Luke asleep against his shoulder. "And I wouldn't have this little guy."

"I wish it even more when she comes to visit because I miss her when she leaves. And it's not because I'm a clingy mother..." Mary Grace sighed and almost smiled. "One of these days you'll understand what I'm trying to say. Maybe..." The woman hesitated. "Maybe if she visited more often I wouldn't miss her as much when she leaves."

Pete hid a smile behind Luke's back as he shifted the toddler to lie on his lap.

"We can always find a way to visit more often," he said.

"It's a long drive," Mary Grace murmured. "Especially with little children. They tend to get cranky and you have to stop every ten minutes because one's hungry or the other has to use the bathroom. Airplanes are just as bad when children are small."

"You know you're always welcome to come visit us. You can hop on a plane any time." He used long fingers to stroke the hair away from his son's forehead and his lips tilted in a little smile. "Joe could take a week of vacation sometime this summer – "

Edie picked that moment to walk into the room, carrying Andrew propped against her chest and toting the folded bassinet.

"– maybe for the Fourth of July," Pete continued off an odd look from his wife and a strangely unreadable one from his mother-in-law.

Mama Hart quickly rose and took the bassinet from her daughter's hand and unfolded it and placed it where the younger woman indicated. She watched as Edie placed the baby in the infant-sized lightweight bed and popped a pacifier in his mouth.

"You should have gotten one of the men to bring it up," Mary Grace chided.

"Papa took Uncle Henry out to the garage to show off his new table saw," Edie smiled over her shoulder as she got Andrew situated. "And the bed's not heavy at all." She arranged the baby's yellow blanket to her satisfaction and straightened, glancing at her husband as he stood up, their other son asleep in his arms. "Aunt Emilie has the coffee going and said to tell you the dessert is almost ready."

Mary Grace murmured something about taking the whipped cream out of the refrigerator and giving it a whisk, then let her gaze rest on Edie as she told the two of them not to be too long, making her exit without waiting for a reply.

Edie Gunn watched curiously as her husband settled Luke in the middle of the double bed, a pillow on either side of him. They'd wait until their own bedtime to transfer him to the little foldaway cot he'd been sleeping in for the past two nights. She reached to straighten the boy's white pajama shirt and pulled at the light blue pants with the little astronauts all over them but her gaze never left the man.

"What was that all about?" she quizzed. Her husband and her mother alone together in the same room almost never boded well. Her hand drifted to Luke's bare feet and she quickly dug in his little bag for a pair of socks.

"What was what?"

"You and my mother, that's what!" The blonde straightened from tending to her son's feet, placed her hands on her hips and gave her husband a stern look.

Pete chuckled and pulled her close, his eyes grazing her expression and his mind on how pretty she looked in her brown wool pants and cream-colored sweater. The clear blue of her eyes was almost mesmerizing and her lips with their thin sheen of light pink lipstick seemed to be calling his name. By the way they slowly curved into a flirtatious smile she must have read his mind.

"Would you believe we were exchanging pleasantries?" He touched his mouth to the side of her neck and felt her shiver. Tit for tat.

"Try again, Mr. Gunn," Edie teased, her arms crawling around his neck.

He gave her a smile and indicated with a nod the bags Mary Grace had brought in and gave a brief summation of what had been on his mother-in-law's mind. Or at least what he thought had been on her mind. Sometimes it was hard to tell with that woman.

"And the moral of this story is?" Edie asked, her hands roaming the soft gray wool of the sweater that covered his shoulders.

Pete became thoughtful.

"A mother-in-law in the hand is worth two in the bush?" His arms tightened around her waist and he leaned in to place a kiss on the tip of her nose.

Edie raised an eyebrow.

"Don't count your mother-in-laws before they hatch?"

She gave him a doubtful shake of her head, her brow crinkling with amusement.

"You can catch more mother-in-laws with honey than with vinegar?" That one sounded pretty good to him but Edie obviously wasn't taken with it.

"You're a nut."

"Just about you." This time his lips found hers in a hard kiss that left her breathless.

"Let's go have our dessert before someone comes looking for us."

"I'd rather have you for dessert," Pete said with a smirk.

"You just hold on to that thought until we get home tomorrow," Edie winked. Her teasing gaze looked him up and down and she leaned close to whisper into his ear, her words causing his smile to broaden.

Hopefully Edie was the only one who noticed the strange fascination the whipped cream adorning the blueberry pie held for him that evening as he enjoyed his dessert.

* * *

 _(Referenced Episode: Arthur Cole dies as a result of his terminal illness while being interrogated by Lieutenant Jacoby in "The Deadly Proposition" S2 EP25, leaving his daughter Angela an orphan.)_


End file.
